The Discontented Artifact
by JTheGoblinKing
Summary: A Dresden Files / Warehouse 13 crossover fan fiction


The Discontented Artifact

Disclaimer: The Dresden Files TV series are based on the books by Jim Butcher. The TV series is currently owned by Lionsgate until 2012 when the rights revert back to Jim Butcher. Warehouse 13 is the property of Syfy. The following is a Dresden Files / Warehouse 13 cross over fan fiction.

The following is a Dresden Files / Warehouse 13 cross over fan fiction set after episode one of Warehouse 13 and before episode one of The Dresden Files. I checked. The Dresden Files TV series never gives a specific date on when the events of the show are happening so it can be after Warehouse 13.

Added disclaimer: At this point and time all I know of Warehouse 13 comes from the original pilot episode and the early pilot script which I obtained several months ago. At the time I write this there is very little revealed about the mythos of Warehouse 13 so it required some guess work.

The title of this fan fiction comes from The Discontented Ghost, a somewhat obscure sequel to Oscar Wilde's The Canterville Ghost written in the 1970s.

The Discontented Artifact

It was a cool, early summer day in Chicago when Dresden started to wake on the floor of his office, dazed from the blast from that strange steampunk style gun that had been fired at him. What was that thing? At first he couldn't recall very much and then he realized Bob! They had taken Bob! The man and the woman (who had looked eerily like Bianca, the vampire, but wasn't) had taken Bob!

These people had claimed to be with the government. Some sort of Men in Black type group. Dresden hadn't bought it but somehow they had gotten the better of him in a surprise physical struggle all to take away Bob's skull. He had been hit with some sort of… -what was that? A laser blast?- to the chest that floored him.

Well, Dresden wasn't going to take that lying down… even if he had been knocked on his back…

The white haired male ghost snorted at the light haired younger looking ghost who stood near him.

The white haired man looked to be in his mid-fifties. He had pale aqua eyes. He wore a dark three piece suit. His arms were folded over his chest. Around each wrist was a manacle bracelet with sigils carved into them. The ghost was bound by invisible chains to the skull that sat on the shelf next to the wallet.

Somehow or another the conversation about each other's situation had turned into…

'Wallet Boy!'

'Bone head!'

'Oh, that's great. That's brilliant.' The older ghost said sarcastically. 'Did your mother help you with that one or did you think of it all by yourself?'

Bob eventually grew bored with the ghostly pissing contest and wandered away from Wallet Boy who seemed preoccupied with stalking after the pretty female (who looked a LOT like Bianca). Bob couldn't venture very far from his skull but he still had a fair sized portion of the immense warehouse to explore before he ran out of slack from the invisible chains that bound him at his manacle bracelets to the old rune covered skull that had once been his own head.

Bob's hands were clasped behind his back as he roamed the aisles of lost magical and or haunted artifacts. There were plenty of ghosts in this place, most of which were more or less hibernating or half-consciously aware of the world around them from within the objects in which they were either attached or refused to depart. There was an interesting old comb for example…

The lanes of crates and various knick-knacks made Bob think of perhaps a giant indoor flea market or untidy thrift store (such as where Dresden purchased most of his clothes). How far away was he from Chicago anyway? It had been a long trip but time meant little to one such as himself. It moved differently particularly in that fuzzy, half-conscious confusion and struggle for clarity he suffered while within the skull in that little void that he drifted in while inside the skull and he didn't have a wrist watch.

He was secretly worried though. Out of all the masters he had served (though he'd never call Dresden his master) he had grown most attached to Dresden. He had watched Harry Dresden grow up. He had taught him how to use his magick. He even loved him as a father would a son. What if Dresden couldn't find him? How long would he be trapped here?

It was a pleasure to finally be out and about now that those two people were gone. The other fellow, Artie, was in another room far from where he, Bob, was. The strange, mysterious man was baking cookies.

Bob hadn't had a good look at Artie but he could tell there was something not quite right about him. Something… different…

The artifact in question had been an ancient looking skull covered in weird symbols. According to Artie it had been the skull of an evil alchemist of some sort by the name of Hrothbert of Bainbridge and apparently the psychic essence or spirit of that alchemist was still influencing people through the skull. In fact the last owner of the skull, a Justin Morningway, had been suspected of using black magick and had died under very mysterious circumstances. It was good that they had neutralized it just in time.

Though she would never admit it to her colleague, Myka, did not like the skull. Like many objects in Warehouse 13 it gave her the creeps. She was glad that they had successfully 'Snagged it, bagged it, tagged it' and put it away for safe keeping. And why had that Dresden guy called her Bianca?

Tracking spells in regard to Bob were nearly impossible and Dresden loathed the idea of getting the High Council (government for the magically incline) involved but he was growing desperate. Fortunately for him though he was able to find a few stray hairs having belonged to the Bianca-like woman. He used this in a tracking potion, the most potent tracking potion he ever brewed.

Dresden allowed the quartz crystal to dangle over the potion. He held the twine tightly in his fingers as the crystal it held began to spin. The crystal spun in his hand and visions projected into his mind of… South Dakota?

Artie spotted the white haired spectre moving around on his surveillance equipment. It didn't take him long to realize the entity was none other than the spirit bound to the most recently gained artifact, the skull of Hrothbert of Bainbridge. This was bad. That spirit had the power of persuasion and alchemical knowledge enough so to rip the fabric of reality in twain.

A small copper coloured box specially designed to induce an electromagnetic shielding around itself became a small prison for the skull and also the adjoined spirit. There was no escaping that. A tiny camera was placed inside the copper container so that the skull could be monitored at all times.

It had been surprisingly easy to contain the spirit and the skull. As soon as Artie came into the vicinity the ghost made himself scarce by retreating into the skull from whence he came. And Artie had the simple job of placing the skull into the container.

It was Wednesday at three fifteen when the man barged into Warehouse 13, catching Artie, Pete and Myka off guard. The man had dark brown hair and brown eyes. He stood at, an impressive, six and a half (or so) feet tall. He wore a tattered leather jacket and blue jeans. He wore a silver pentacle amulet at his throat. And around his right wrist was a bracelet comprised of seven copper discs, each bearing a seal of Solomon for protection against negative thoughts and bad habits. An anti-addiction ward? Against what? Black magick?

The younger looking man of the three (Pete) raised a strange, antique looking weapon. Dresden simply had to raise his right hand and suddenly the device became red hot and Pete was forced to drop his weapon.

Myka tried to come up from behind but Dresden heard her coming and he was pissed. He was pissed off that Bob had been stolen. He was pissed off that he had been inconvenienced and had to beg for plane fare to South Dakota. He was angry that his property… No, his friend had been taken. Bob was no object to be stored away in this giant shed.

Dresden did not like hitting women but fortunately for him she struck the first blow. Her elbow met his jaw and then a fist made impact with his stomach.

Dresden doubled over in pain but then he was able to grab a thick old book off one of the near by shelves and slammed it into her head hard enough to knock her unconscious.

Dresden looked down at the now unconscious woman. He was in awe at how much she looked like Bianca but no. Bianca wouldn't be up and about during the day. Also this woman had slightly darker skin and her hair was brown. Bianca had black hair. He knelt down. It felt terrible to hit a woman but he had no choice.

Dresden got up and stepped toward Artie. 'I'm here for Bob.'

Artie didn't know what he was talking about. He backed up a step. 'What?'

'The skull. I want the skull!' There was a menace in Dresden's eyes.

'Th- The skull of Hrothbert of Bainbridge? I- I can't let you have that. That's a highly dangerous artifact. That thing is a class-'

'BOB is not a thing!' Dresden said angrily. He grabbed Artie by the front of his shirt and pinned him up against the wall. 'Now where is he?!' he growled.

Artie looked terrified. 'I can't!' That's when the phone rang. 'Just- just a second.' He stammered before the self-proclaimed wizard could hit him. He reached out, groping on the shelf, found an antique looking phone and lifted the receiver to his head. 'Hello?' There was a small pause. Dresden could not hear the voice on the other end. 'Yes. Yes, but I- No. No, of course not. All right. Yes. I understand.' Artie set the phone down. 'Right this way, Mr. Dresden…'

Dresden was not sure who Artie had been speaking to. Maybe he knew about The High Council? In any event he was grateful for his sudden change of heart in letting him take Bob.

'So…' Artie said as they walked down the lane. 'This artifact is important to you.' Artie did not like the idea of handing the skull over to a man like this, especially if the skull might have had some control over him.

'Yeah…' Dresden's head turned as he looked over the rows and rows of strange objects and crates, curious about the oddities around him and a boyish part of him wanting to play with the things he saw. 'Bob is not just an artifact. He's always been there for me. He's…'

Artie softened 'He's your friend?'

'Yeah.'

It seemed kind of sad that this man had made friends with an artifact. How lonely he must have been… 'How do you know you can trust it? Er… him?'

'He's never let me down before.'

'You know about Justin Morningway, right? There's reason to believe the skull had something to do with-'

'Bob had nothing to do with that.' Dresden said defensively, maybe even with at race of guilt as they walked toward the strange, 'purple' area.

Harry Dresden had no desire to tell him that he was the one who had killed Justin Morningway with black magick. He had found out his uncle had killed his father with Thaumaturgy and confronted his uncle and things had not gone very well… It had been ruled self-defense by the High Council (thanks to Bob's testimony) but they never trusted Dresden again after that. And maybe in his bitterness Dresden blamed Bob. He blamed Bob for not telling him what Justin had done. And he blamed Bob for having taught Justin the black magick used to kill his father. He had blamed Bob for teaching him that black magick too, leaving him with that constant craving and addiction for that dark power, an addiction Dresden fought to resist every day of his life. Deep down inside he knew it was not Bob's fault. Everything Bob did while in the service of his uncle he had been forced to do but a part of Dresden felt he had to blame someone. He loved Bob but he restented him too. He had to learn to let go of that resentment. Bob was forced to obey whomever owned the skull. He was not at fault.

'You don't know the history of the man that skull originally belonged to.' Artie said. 'Hrothbert of Bainbridge came up with some pretty nasty things. We've been after his grimoires for years. And if anyone was to build one of his "Doom Boxes" there's no telling what those things could do.'

'That's not who he is anymore.' But there was a trace of doubt in Dresden's voice, a hint of old mistrust.

Artie didn't like the uncertainty. He felt that if he had enough time he could have talked the 'wizard' into relinquishing his ownership of the artifact in question but orders were orders…

He lead Dresden to the copper container on the shelf just higher than Artie's own eye level.

Dresden ignored the nerdish man for the time being and lifted the lid of the copper box quite easily. He lifted the old rune covered stone in his hands. There was an obvious sigh of relief. He knew it would be tricky smuggling Bob back to Chicago but he would do it. He had Bob back. That's all that mattered.

'Bob! Bob, come on!'

A dim amber coloured light flickered from within the old skull. It was like the light of a candle flame and yet it lacked a wick as it flickered from it's macabre setting. The light intensified and finally it emerged from one of the skull's eye sockets and came out into the open air. Like an over sized firefly it darted upward. Trailing behind it was a dark blackish smoky haze. The light hovered at about eye level. The smoky haze that trailed now expanded and a seemingly solid and very real looking image of a man took shape. He had white hair and light, pale eyes. He wore a suit that would have been considered stylish in nearly any time period. He stood about six feet tall. (Roughly a head shorter than Harry Dresden). He had manacle bracelets on each wrist with sigils carved into them. They were similar to some of the many symbols carved into the skull itself. The Ghost stood with a quiet look of dignity and detachment.

Dresden was relieved. 'You okay, Bob?'

'As well as ever. What took you so long to get here?'

'South Dakota is not exactly a quick jog from the office, Bob.'

'South Dakota? Really?'

Dresden carried the skull hooked under his arm as he walked with Bob at his side down the lanes and lanes of artifacts in various containers or out in the open.

'Wait!' Bob said as they were walking. 'Take that with you.' He gestured to an object on a shelf.

'Bob, I'm not stealing from them.'

'It's just going to go to waste here.'

Dresden found himself listening to Bob. He reached out and took a hold of the sigil and rune covered hockey stick. He had loved hockey. He used to play it as a kid with his father. 'What is it?'

Bob sighed and rolled his pale, aqua eyes. 'It's a staff. Someone used a hockey stick as magical conduit.'

Dresden balanced it in his hand, testing the feel of it. Bob was right, as always. It was a good staff. He saw the slip of paper on the shelf that described the energy holding potential of the hockey stick and how it could be used to blast people. Someone had titled it 'The Hockey stick of doom.' It looked like a title Bob would use. How melodramatic could you get?

'I could feel the power from it.' Bob said. 'Despite the strange basis of it's conception it is one of the finest staffs I have ever seen.'

Dresden took the hockey stick / staff in his hand and continued to walk down the aisle, now looking more like someone grocery shopping as he looked around at the potentially useful items. He passed by a branding iron that looked like a pentagram with a squiggly thing inside it. Dresden got a bad vibe from that. There was a creepy tallow candle that looked like a human hand. Was that a real hand under all that wax? Some strange looking tea leaves in a canister. There was a shield with what looked like vampire teeth sticking out of it. Bob told Dresden that it was useful as a vampire ward. Harry took that with him. There were voodoo dolls and protection wards. Dresden snatched up the protection wards that were sigils written on blue cloth.

Soon he had a small shopping style basket slung over one arm. In the basket Dresden had protection wards, the shield with the vampire teeth, a few grimoires.

The ghost walked a few steps in front of Dresden but never far from the basket (which now also held the skull).

'Take those too.' Bob said.

Dresden looked into the coffee tin on the shelf. It held about twenty drum sticks. 'Drum sticks?'

'Not regular drum sticks. Wands, Harry. Wands.' The ghost said.

'Ah. Are they any good?'

'They work. I ran my hand through that tin earlier. They're powerful when fully charged.

Dresden took those as well…

Artie was not sure what to make of all this. He had never seen Mrs. Frederic allow anything like this but he had been told to just let Mr. Dresden take what he wanted. He just shook his head and munched down on his oatmeal cookie, choosing not to worry about it. She had said to let the wizard take what he wanted.

The small, young looking Asian woman stood behind the larger African woman. Something about the two was strikingly similar for all their physical differences.

Mrs. Frederic was looking out the window, not even acknowledging Ancient Mai, the leader of the Chicago branch of The High Council.

'Sorry about treading on your territory.' Ancient Mai said coolly with a weird smile. She did not sound at all sorry. 'That skull is not for consignment… yet.'

'What makes you think this isn't exactly what I wanted?' Mrs. Frederic said in an equally eerie tone.

Mai nodded.

It was several years later…

Maybe twenty years had passed when a small box found it's way to Artie's desk. He recognized it to be the lost artifact. It was the skull but something was very different about it. The symbols carved into it were gone. It was smooth and clear despite it's age. And he knew the spirit attached to it was long gone. Perhaps Hrothbert of Bainbridge had found peace. Maybe Dresden hadn't been changed by the damned alchemist after all. Maybe Dresden had changed it… him. Artie had translated some of the runes back when the runes were still scrawled across the skull with other magical symbols and words. One line of Futhark runes read: 'A necessary pain followed by selflessness and reflection will lead to rebirth, progress, light and finally spiritual ascension.' Maybe that wizard was like them, trying to help people and even helped the spirit to earn redemption finally. That was a nice, fuzzy thought. Still…

The skull was returned to the copper container and placed on a shelf where it was kept under observation for several years. No energy fluctuations, no signs of the ghost. It was… just a skull.

The End


End file.
